ggk.asongforarbonne-第77部分

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m；　the　neat；　precise　movements。　He　had　not　turned　out　to　be　what　she'd　expected　from　his　verses；　or　from　the　tales　told　of　his　dealings　with　women　in　many　countries。
　　〃How　do　we　know　of　this？〃　she　asked　at　length。
　　He　said；　without　turning；　〃A　coran　from　Garsenc　who　was　here　for　the　tournament。　He　watched　Blaise　this　morning　and　was　riding　north　to　tell　the　king　what　had　happened。〃
　　〃Why　did　he　change　his　mind？〃
　　Bertran　looked　briefly　over　his　shoulder　and　shook　his　head。　〃That　I　do　not　know。　I'll　have　to　ask　Blaise　later。〃　He　turned　back　to　the　fire；　shifting　the　wood。　First　one　side　caught；　and　then　a　moment　later　the　other　did。　With　a　grunt　of　satisfaction　he　rose。　〃He　swore　fealty　to　Blaise　tonight；　as　his　liege　lord　and　true　king。　He　named　Ademar　as　a　traitor。〃
　　〃Iersen　Bridge；　then；〃　said　Rosala　quietly。　〃That　is　why　he　did　it。　He　was　probably　a　man　from　the　north。　There　will　be　many　who　feel　that　way　about　the　treaty。〃
　　〃How　many？〃　asked　the　duke　of　Talair。　She　realized　that　he　meant　the　question　seriously；　that　he　was　treating　her　as　someone　whose　views　on　this　would　matter。
　　〃That　is　hard　to　judge；〃　she　said。　The　fire　had　caught　now；　warming　her。　〃Not　enough；　I　don't　think。　Most　of　the　men　of　rank　who　might　matter　are　afraid　of　the　king；　and　the　mon　folk　are　even　more　afraid　of　the　brethren　of　Corannos…who　are　ruled　by　my　father…in…law。〃
　　He　was　silent。　Looking　into　the　fire　Rosala　saw　a　future　there　shaped　of　flame。　Fifty　people　had　died　tonight　for　her。　She　closed　her　eyes　again；　but　the　imprint　of　the　fire　was　still　against　her　eyelids。　The　shock　was　beginning　to　pass。
　　〃Oh；　my　son；〃　she　said。　〃Oh；　Cadar。〃　And　then；　〃I　will　have　to　take　him　back。　I　cannot　let　them　do　this　to　people　here。　It　is　because　he　is　a　boy；　you　see。　They　will　not　let　us　be。〃
　　It　seemed　that　she　was　crying　again；　the　tears　spilling　to　slide　down　her　face　before　the　fire。　She　heard　the　sound　of　a　chair　scraping　the　floor；　and　then　a　rustling；　and　then　petent；　capable　hands　had　taken　her　and　laid　her　head　against　a　strong　shoulder。　His　arm　went　around　her。
　　〃Neither　of　you　is　going　back；〃　said　Bertran　de　Talair；　his　voice　roughened。　〃The　countess　herself　stood　up　for　your　child　before　Corannos　and　Rian　and　so　did　I。　I　swore　an　oath　to　you　the　night　Cadar　was　born。　I　did　not　do　so　carelessly。　I　will　swear　it　again：　neither　of　you　is　going　back　to　them　while　I　live。〃
　　Something　hard　and　tight　in　Rosala　seemed　to　loosen；　or　she　let　go　of　her　hold　upon　it；　and　she　allowed　herself　to　weep　without　shame　in　the　arms　of　the　duke　of　Talair。　She　wept　for　Cadar；　for　herself；　for　the　dead　and　burned　of　that　night；　for　all　the　dying　and　burning　yet　to　e。　His　clasp　was　firm　holding　her；　his　voice　low；　murmuring　words　of　fort　and　heart's　ease。　No　one　had　held　her　like　this；　Rosala　thought；　since　her　father　had　died。　She　wept　for　that；　as　well。
　　She　could　not　know　it；　but　Bertran　de　Talair's　thoughts　just　then　were　almost　a　mirror　of　her　own：　he　was　thinking　that　he　could　not　remember　the　last　time　he　had　held　a　woman　in　this　way；　offering　shelter　and　strength　and　not　simply　the　passion　of　a　moment。　And　then；　a　moment　later；　he　realized　that　this　was　untrue：　that　he　could　remember　the　last　time；　quite　well　actually；　if　he　allowed　the　memory　in　through　his　barriers。
　　The　last　woman　he　had　held　this　way；　his　own　heart　beating　as　if　for　hers；　had　later　died　in　Miraval　giving　birth　to　his　child；　twenty…three　years　ago。
　　
　　Blaise　stopped　outside　the　partially　open　door　of　Rosala's　room。　He　had　been　ing　to　tell　her　of　the　news　that　had　reached　them　that　night；　feeling　the　dread　of　all　such　message…bearers；　but　not　wanting　her　to　learn　it　badly；　from　a　stranger。　Ranald　had　been　at　Aubry；　Thaune　had　said；　and　Fulk　de　Savaric；　her　brother。　About　to　knock；　he　heard　two　voices；　and　realized　a　moment　later　that　he　had　been　anticipated　in　his　errand。　He　felt　an　unexpected　mixture　of　emotions。　Relief；　mostly；　in　the　end。
　　Uncertain　whether　to　enter　or　leave；　he　heard　Rosala　abruptly　speak　in　a　stricken　voice　of　taking　the　child　back　to　Gorhaut。　Grieving　for　her；　understanding　exactly　what　she　meant；　and　humbled　again　by　what　it　seemed　she　was；　he　heard　Bertran　de　Talair；　unexpectedly　gruff；　repeating　an　oath　he'd　evidently　sworn　to　her　before。　Blaise　heard　Rosala　begin　to　weep　then；　and　through　the　angle　of　the　door；　in　the　light　of　the　fire's　glow；　he　saw　the　duke　move　to　the　arm　of　her　chair　to　hold　her　while　she　cried。
　　He　felt　an　intruder；　a　cause　of　the　distress　the　other　man　was　trying　to　assuage。　He　ought　to　have　been　forting　her　himself；　he　thought。　He　owed　her　that　much。　He　owed　her　at　least　that　much。　Blaise　looked　back　up　the　corridor　and　saw　Hirnan　waiting　discreetly　at　the　farther　end。　Feeling　his　wounds　again　and　weary　still；　but　with　a　suddenly　urgent　need　to　at　least　finish　what　he　had　begun　with　the　white　rose　this　morning；　he　knocked　on　the　door　and　said；　quietly；　so　as　not　to　startle　them　too　greatly；　〃For　what　it　is　worth；　I　have　an　oath　of　my　own　from　this　morning　to　repeat。〃
　　They　both　looked　up；　Bertran　calmly；　Rosala　wiping　quickly　at　her　eyes。　She　shifted　a　little　then　and　the　duke　rose；　allowing　her　to　stand　and　then　walk　forward。　A　little　too　late　Blaise　realized　what　she　was　about　to　do。　Quickly；　trying　to　forestall　her；　he　moved　into　the　room　so　that；　in　the　end；　they　ended　up　on　their　knees；　both　of　them；　facing　each　other　before　the　fire。　He　wouldn't　have　blamed　Bertran　for　laughing；　but　the　duke　was　silent　and　watchful。
　　The　lost　children　of　Gorhaut；　Lucianna　had　said　two　nights　ago。　Truth　to　that；　Blaise　thought。　Through　her　tears　he　saw　Rosala　offer　the　glimmer　of　a　smile。
　　〃Will　you　not　accept　my　homage；　my　lord？〃
　　He　shook　his　head。
　　〃You　will　have　to　bee　accustomed　to　this；〃　she　murmured。　〃Kings　can't　go　about　kneeling　to　women。〃
　　〃I　am　not　a　king　yet；〃　he　said；　〃and　to　some　women　I　think　they　can。　I　understand　the　duke　of　Talair　has　vowed　that　he　will　not　let　them　take　you　while　he　lives。〃　He　looked　at　Bertran；　whose　expression　remained　devoid　of　irony。　〃Hear　me；　then。　In　the　name　of　the　most　holy　god；　I　swear　I　will　keep　faith　with　you；　Rosala。　My　claim　to　the　throne　is　as　nothing　if　we　surrender　you　and　Cadar。〃　He　heard　the　roughness　in　his　own　voice　at　the　end。
　　It　was　the　first　time　he　had　actually　spoken　the　child's　name。　It　sounded　strange　to　him　as　an　infant's　name。　Cadar　was　a　name　of　power　for　Blaise；　for　an　entire　generation　in　Gorhaut；　given　their　vivid　images　of　Rosala's　father。　It　was　a　name　of　pride；　of　hope　。。。　if　the　child　lived　long　enough。
　　Rosala　shook　her　head。　〃We　should　not　matter　so　much；　he　and　I；〃　she　murmured。　〃There　is　too　much　at　stake　here。〃
　　Behind　her；　Bertran　said　quietly；　〃Sometimes　people　end　up　mattering　more　than　one　might　expect。　My　lady；　the　two　of　you　are　what　is　at　stake。　They　will　use　you　to　begin　the　war。　They　already　have。〃
　　〃Then　send　us　back；〃　she　whispered。　She　was　looking　at　Blaise；　not　at　Bertran。
　　〃It　would　make　no　difference；〃　the　duke　answered　quietly。　〃Not　now。　They　would　kill　you　and　keep　him　and　still　find　a　reason　to　e　down　on　us。　They　have　all　the　dispossessed　of　their　northlands　hungry　to　be　assuaged。　This　isn't　like　the　old　romances：　Elienna　carried　off　to　Royaunce　and　an　army　going　after　her。　This　is　pure　politics　now；　the　hard　game　of　nations。　My　lady　Rosala；　Arbonne　is　the　last　clause；　if　you　will；　of　the　Treaty　of　Iersen　Bridge。〃
　　Blaise；　closely　watching　her；　saw　the　handsome；　intelligent　features　accept　the　truth　of　Bertran's　words。　She　knew　as　much　about　these　things　as　Ariane　or　Lucianna；　or　indeed；　he　and　Bertran。　She　always　had。　There　were　tears　still　on　her　cheeks；　revealed　by　the　firelight；　awkwardly；　regretting　how　difficult　such　gestures　seemed　to　be　for　him；　he　brought　up　a　hand　and　brushed　them　away。　He　wished　he　were　more　graceful；　more　at　ease　with　himself。　He　said；　〃You　owe　no　homage　to　me；　Rosala。〃
　　She　looked　again　as　if　she　would　protest；　but　in　the　end　said　only；　〃I　may　thank　you　for　the　flower？〃
　　Blaise　found　that　he　could　smile。　〃I　would　expect　you　to。〃
　　Bertran　laughed　quietly。　Rosala；　a　second　later；　returned　the　smile　tremulously；　but　then　she　lowered　her　face　into　her　hands。
　　〃How　can　we　speak　thus？〃　she　cried。　〃They　burned　women　tonight。　Because　of　me。　They　never　even　knew　who　I　was　and　they　were　taken　from　their　beds　and　raped　by　Ademar's　corans　and…say　nothing；　I　know　they　were！…and　then　they　were　burned　alive。　With　all　that　the　two　of　you　know；　will　you　tell　me　how　I　am　to　live　with　that？　I　can　hear　them　screaming　now。〃
　　Blaise　opened　his　mouth　and　closed　it。　He　looked　past　her　at　Bertran；　whose　eyes　were　shadowed　and　dark　with　the　fire　behind　him。　The　duke　said　nothing　either。　With　all　that　the　two　of　you　know。　He　knew　nothing；　in　the　face　of　this。　There　were　no　words　he　could　think　of　to　say。
　　So　he　spoke　her　name。　What　was　it　about　the　speaking　of　a　name？　Slowly　he　brought　up　his　arms　again　and　gently　took　her　head　between　his　hands　and；　leaning　forward；　he　kissed　her　on　the　brow。　He　wished　there　were　more　he　could　do；　but　there　didn't　seem　to　be。　Women　had　been　burned　tonight；　on　a　pyre　of　his　father's　long　dreaming。　Men　had　been　slain　and　mutilated。　He；　too；　could　hear　the　screaming。
　　〃In　the　morning　。。。　〃　he　said　roughly。　〃We　will　all　be　stronger　in　the　morning。〃　Lame　words；　an　empty　truth。　It　was　this　night　that　needed　dealing　with。　He　looked　over　at　the　duke　again　for　a　moment　and　then　rose　and　left　the　room。　Bertran　would　be　better　at　this；　he　thought；　than　he　himself　would　be。　There　was　less　history　here　for　the　duke；　he　knew　women　so　much　better。　There　was　an　ache　inside　Blaise；　though；　walking　from　her　chamber。
　　Oh；　Ranald；　he　thought；　said　it　aloud；　actually；　softly　in　the　empty　corridor。　She　might　even　have　made　a　man　of　you；　this　one；　if　she　had　been　allowed。　His　brother　had　been　at　Aubry　tonight。　Blaise　was　nearly　certain　that　Ranald　wouldn't　have　wanted　to　be；　but　that　didn't　matter；　did　it？　He　had　been　there。
　　Heavy　with　burdens；　of　past　and　future　both；　Blaise　suddenly　stopped　and　stood　very　still。　A　child　had　cried　out　in　a　room　behind　him。　He　listened　but　there　was　no　other　sound。　A　cry　i